


You got the will of a wild bird

by wajjs



Series: Time after Time [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Elseworlds, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Robin 3000 (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Elseworlds, Future Fic, Gen, Immortality, Not Beta Read, if you're looking for canon things then keep looking, immortal!jason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 20:14:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20645021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wajjs/pseuds/wajjs
Summary: It is time for Robin to return.





	You got the will of a wild bird

**Author's Note:**

> So, something funny happened, I sat down to study and then before I knew it I was writing this story! So weird, am I right? Anyways, I didn't feel satisfied with leaving the Immortal!Jason AU as it was so I decided to go ahead and finish writing this all in one go lol. Yes, this is a sequel to **[I'll wake you tomorrow and you will be my fill](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20630114)**, though there's no need to read that one first since there are only some vague mentions of it here. It might still be a good idea to give that one a read first to get the idea of how I decided to handle the au LMAO
> 
> Featuring Robin 3000 because I actually liked those comics, ok
> 
> (Title comes from The Killers' song _Some Kind of Love_)

**You got the will of a wild bird**

_ It is time for Robin to return. _

The whole debacle makes him want to laugh. To think that once in the past he’d had done everything in his power to bring one man grief, to bring one man pain, to make one man look at him. Some things are constants in the universe and this seems to be one of them: there is no rest for the Waynes. Newer generations just keep proving him right. The ones that rise and fall and the ones that follow to repeat the pattern; there is no rest for them, no peace or solace. Happiness is a capricious thing that comes and goes when it wishes, teasing with the promise of it ever sticking around for too long.

He stills remembers. He still remembers the first one, the first man, the one that marked his life for all the good, the bad, the downright ugly. If he closes his eyes, he can see all of them, himself among their group. If he closes his eyes, they are all here, they never left. He doesn’t keep his eyes closed, not for too long.

The skulps chase the Waynes. There’s some kind of poetry to be found. It’s a damn waste that no one is here with him, no one from the golden times, to share all of this with. And to think they once had it all, every iteration of hero one could ever dream of. All replaced. All gone. Revisionism erased their presence from history and no one thought too much about the perpetually  _ missing _ one. They all think him dead.

Oh, if they only knew.

Beer isn’t what it used to be. If it can even be called beer, or if his memory of it can be trusted. An old scar in the palm of his hand that never faded away itches and he’s thrown all the way back to the discovery of his updated status. He glares at what goes for a bottle these days and thinks that not even alcohol is what it used to be before. There is nothing sacred in this universe.

Several holograms and screens of all sorts and origins replay the hottest news: here we are standing among the remains of the ship that belonged to the  _ most dangerous man _ —  _ Batman — Tom Wayne’s sentence has been forgiven due to— _

He still has all his old toys, and some from the others. It’s been a couple of decades since he visited the place he’s stored them in, the memories of warmth and voices filling his empty spaces too much for him to bear. At first, when everyone had been gone, he had cursed every single thing he thought of cursing: gods, if they existed; the universe, if it listened; the diminishing survivors, for reminding him of all he will keep losing. Now he’s run out of things to curse and the bitter taste of his beverage fills his senses. Perhaps it’s a good thing he’s the one that remains. Doesn’t mean he’s ok with it. Doesn’t mean that he likes it. He just can’t think of the others in his same position without something broken beginning to shake.

A flash of clear hair coming from the screens nearly blinds him with its brightness. Nearly, and that’s what lets him know it’s not the real deal. Had it been, he would’ve gone back to being a blind man once more.

Dropping the equivalent of money onto the dirty counter, he stands and leaves and no one notices him ever being there at all. There are no seeing eyes for the man that stands outside of time.

_ I am to give you back… _

He upgrades the helmet one last time even if he feels stupid doing so. It feels too sacrilegious to use it, even if it’s not the one he used so long ago, even if it’s a back-up. The one with fingerprints smudged over the surface stays inside its cage; those are the last memory he has of Dick alive and breathing. The one with all the logs of Bruce-always-Batman in all his glory. The one he had been wearing when Tim found him bleeding out in an alley. The one that Damian looked at with a strange emotion in his eyes before they parted ways. Barbara had helped update its systems one last time, Steph had knocked on it as one would knock on a door to see if someone’s home. Cass had patted the top of it and he had felt like the worst loser in history.

Stupidly, he clings to hope, he clings to his heart, he clings to what he thinks is right and is wrong. He clings to all those memories hoping one day they will all wrap around him and guide him to wherever the others are. He’s tired of running and running and running. He’s tired of losing those he wants to save.

But Red Hood comes back to life like a ghost from millenia ago, from a time no one thinks of studying anymore. A time of legends and fables, of nothing that can be proved. And like someone forever stuck in an eternal loop, Red Hood steps into the world to leave his mark once again. There’s a wayward bird, the last of its kind, the very last of the line. There’s only one way of calling him home.

Feeling the ghosts of yesterday nestling between his ribs, he goes where he needs to go and finds what he needs to find. Purposefully triggering all the alarms, a clear signal like the ancient bat-shaped one that sometimes lights up the sky, he breaks into the batcave. And he waits.

_ ...your destiny. _

Thomas Wayne doesn’t storm into the cave in full Robin costume because he knows a trap when he sees one. He gets in undetected and watches the intruder from the shadows. Still after only three minutes the intruder is standing and facing his general direction. The red face with white eyes leaves no room for any kind of expression.

“Hey there, Robin,” the intruder speaks and Thomas feels shivers running down his spine. “Or Thomas Wayne. Or whatever.”

Stepping out of his hiding place, he quickly scans their surroundings one more time. Just like before, they are still alone. “Who are you?”

The red head tilts to the side while still looking on impassively. A bit of skin shows up underneath the jaw of what Thomas now knows is a helmet. Knowing he’s dealing with an actual living being and not a robot doesn’t make things easier.

“An ally,” the intruder says then, shrugging, “whatever you need me to be.”

“Did—did Bruce send you?”

A twitch. Muscles that grow tense. A distorted voice that even through the modifier sounds about to snap in two. “That’s. Neither here nor there.”

“How did you find this place?” Thomas is growing tired of waiting for answers. He can tell the intruder’s stance is not hostile, but he’s not above violence to get what he needs. Clenching his fists, he takes one single step forward. “And how do you know who I am?”

“You’re a Wayne, wearing a costume is like, hell, in your dna by now. Or not. There was an odd gap in generations, but you are all indeed geniuses. Even the bratty ones.”

He’s had enough. Thomas snarls as he runs and leaps, aiming to force the intruder into a headlock only to find himself on his back, on the floor, faster than he can blink. There’s a dagger pressed to his throat and a knee keeping his prosthetic hand pinned in place. That can’t be coincidence. No one besides his closest allies are supposed to know about the weaponized hand. It just, it just  _ can’t _ .

“Stay put, kid,” the intruder says and Thomas growls, snapping his teeth at the other, “I got a long story to tell.”

_ Stars are the jewels of time. _

He can feel Thomas staring at his back as he stretches out his legs next to the consoles, completely comfortable in the seat he’s stolen. His helmet rests on his lap. He’s taken it off because the team of ragtag dreamers that follow Thomas everywhere have all gone to sleep.

“Ask away, kid,” he says with an edge of a smile to his mouth, knowing his dim reflection in the viewport betrays him but not caring, “you are gonna burst if you don’t let go of some of your questions.”

“I’m  _ not _ a kid,” Thomas grumbles and moves to sit next to him, staring intently at his face. “Jason.”

“Yeah?”

“Just. Why now? Why did you come back now?”

Jason hums and looks down at the top of his helmet before looking back outside, admiring not for the first time the stars existing all around them. He’s got to give it to the last of the Waynes, he might not be a trained detective but he knows how to ask the important questions. There are many reasons. There are also reasons that go against him being here. There are always reasons.

He weighs them on his tongue, trying to decide which one is the one that fights back the most.  _ Because I was lonely _ is on the road to a full truth and still so far away.  _ Because no Robin should be left alone, because I’m tired, because maybe this is my final time and after this I will be allowed to rest, because like this I’m honoring them. _

“Because you had your Bruce,” he says instead and has to swallow past the dryness in his throat. 

_ Because I was busy mourning mine. _

  
  


_ The light we’re seeing is old but very bright. _

**Author's Note:**

> The phrases in italics that are in between the paragraphs are quotes from Robin 3000#2


End file.
